The Mandala Effect: The Janus Knights
by SociopathicAngel
Summary: Loki's spell drops Clint into a medieval landscape that appears to be nearly fourteen centuries in the past. Unfortunately, his search for a way home is put on hold when he is drafted to help the Ranger's Will and Halt to investigate a string of mysterious disappearances. (Rated T for language)
1. Medieval Times

**(A/N: Y'all ready for some rootin' tootin' arrow shootin' action? :D This story is set when Will was still apprenticed to Halt. Also, I'm using Clint's Civil War costume, but instead of one quiver for both trick and regular arrows, I gave him one quiver for regular arrows and another for trick arrows.)**

 _When the arrow was seven eighths of the way to Loki, Clint disappeared into thin air. He began to glow green, not like Loki with his signature emerald green, but with the greens that one might find in the shadows of an ancient forest, mottled and cool. Clint had barely a moment to blink before he simply… wasn't there._

Before Clint even opened his eyes, he knew that something wasn't right. That _definitely_ wasn't his and Laura's Tempurpedic mattress underneath him and he was pretty sure that his room didn't usually smell like horse dung. He cracked his eyes open, peered around the room, and flopped his head back onto his pillow, holding back the exasperated groan that crawled up his throat. Yeah, he definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore.

The room that he found himself in was fairly sparse, with a paper- and book-strewn table underneath a window that was paned with translucent canvas instead of glass. There was also a small nightstand next to his bed, which felt like its mattress was stuffed with straw. A large chest sat at the end of the bed and an unlit oil lamp was on the nightstand. As Clint sat up and took another look around the room, he could also see a rustic, beaten up leather case in the corner that probably held some sort of stringed instrument and a vase of wildflowers on the windowsill. Other than that, the room was bare, with no paintings or paint on the wooden walls and no rug to cover the floor.

The sounds of a door creaking open and two pairs of soft footsteps entering the room adjacent to Clint made him turn to look at the door, his back ramrod straight and his muscles tensed.

"I swear, he just appeared in front of me!" There was a soft _chunk_ as someone closed the door. The voice seemed to be that of a young man or even a teenager. "Right in front of my target! I almost shot him." This last declaration was quieter, but Clint's hearing aids still managed to pick it up. He felt his chest, thankful that there wasn't a bullet hole underneath his fingers.

"You said he collapsed?" This voice was deeper, rougher. Clint imagined someone of similar height to Thor, probably with either a pot belly or huge muscles. "Where did you put him?"

"I carried him into my room," the youth replied. Clint blinked in surprise. At his last physical exam, he had weighed just over 200 pounds. I couldn't have been easy for the youth to lift him. "He was still asleep the last time I checked."

"Good. We'll let him rest for a bit." There was a pause. "He's an archer." Clint frowned as there was another pause and a grunt. "This has a pretty good draw weight as well, especially for a recurve bow. This thing has to have at least 150 pounds of force behind it." There was a low whistle of appreciation.

Clint's eye widened and he quickly cast his gaze around the room. He saw—or rather, didn't see—exactly what he expected. His bow was missing, as was his two quivers. The two men must be examining his equipment. Strangely, his gun was still strapped to his thigh. Why would they take some of his weapons and not the others?

"What kind of metal is this?" Clint's attention was pulled back to the voices as the older one spoke again.

"I don't know, Halt," the younger one replied with a huff. "I've never seen anything like it before."

Clint frowned. Sure, his bow was made from a lighter, stronger material than most bows, but these men should have at least recognized it as some sort of steel alloy. Stark never did tell Clint what exactly was in it.

The older man—the younger one had called him Halt, which struck Clint as a particularly… unique name—grunted again. "Neither have I."

"And his arrows are strange as well," the youth added. "They seem to be made of a material that I can't even begin to identify and their broadheads have a very odd shape." Clint could hear the clacking of his arrows in his quiver. "I don't even know how a blacksmith could forge that shape."

Clint frowned at that. Didn't these people know about modern manufacturing techniques?

"And in this one," the young man continued, "none of the shafts are even connected to arrowheads! And I'm not even sure if these are even arrowheads in the first place. I don't even know what they would be used for." Those must be his trick arrows in his second quiver. Based on the technological ineptitude that he had observed from these two so far, he was glad that the explosive ones could only be set off using the controls on his bow. "And it isn't just his bow and arrows, Halt. His clothing was made of a material that I couldn't recognize either. And the way he just appeared… Halt, he wasn't there and then, in the blink of an eye, he just appeared out of thin air! I don't—"

"Will!" Halt yelled, stopping the younger man in his tracks. He continued in a quieter, more soothing tone, "Don't worry. We'll figure it out. I'm sure that there's a completely rational explanation for this."

Clint nearly laughed. His explanation was far from rational.

"Now," Halt continues, "you can start making coffee while I go and check on our guest."

Clint's eyes widened as footsteps approached his door. In the space of a second, he had rolled off the bed, putting it between himself and the door as he drew his gun and leveled it at the door. These people could be harmless, but there was always the off chance that they could be trained killers.

The door swung open moments later to admit someone that was most definitely not Thor-like in any aspect other than his wild and rustic appearance. The man was actually shorter than average height, with salt and pepper hair that looked as if it had been cut with a weed whacker and an unruly beard that seemed to have received the same treatment. As strange as his hair seemed, his clothing was even stranger. He was wearing brown pants, simple leather boots, a leather bracer on his left arm, and a long green tunic that reached to his mid-thigh. The tunic was cinched with a leather belt that had a dull brass buckle. At his hip hung a scabbard with two brass-pommeled knives. One was larger and was probably used for hacking through vegetation while the smaller one seemed to be a throwing knife, although Clint couldn't be sure while it was sheathed. Around the man's shoulders was a long cloak that reached almost all the way to the floor. The cloak was colored green and grey in a mottled pattern and Clint suspected that it was most likely a form of camouflage. Around his neck hung a silver oak leaf that glinted in the filtered sunlight.

The man simply stared at Clint, his eyes half lidded in an unimpressed expression with a single eyebrow raised in challenge.

"What are you going to do with that thing? Club me?" He turned back towards the door, leaving it open for Clint to follow behind. "Come on, you must be hungry."

Clint was speechless for a few seconds as he stared after his host. He quickly checked his clip and chamber in confusion. Yep, all of his ammunition was still there. Why did Halt not even bat an eye at a loaded gun?

He slowly slipped the gun back into its holster and rounded the bed, approaching the door with even, careful steps. He stopped in the doorway to examine the small room in front of him, which consisted of a wooden table, three rickety wooden chairs, a cabinet, and a small woodstove. Two unstrung wooden bows leaned next to the door. One was a recurve bow and the other a longbow. Clint surmised that the longbow was probably Halt's due to the larger draw weight. Two leather quivers, one with black-feathered arrows and one with grey, leaned next to them. Based on the lack of recognition that Halt had shown moments before, Will had probably almost impaled him with an arrow earlier rather than a bullet.

The young man in question was putting a copper kettle on the stove when Clint came in, but turned to examine his and Halt's guest. Just like Halt, the teenager was shorter than how Clint imagined him. The boy couldn't be any older than 18, with thin, wiry limbs and closely cropped brown hair. He was dressed similarly—no, identically—to Halt, with the same double scabbard, cloak, and oak leaf necklace, although Will's was bronze rather than silver. If Clint couldn't see the vast differences in facial features, he would have said that the two were father and son.

Will seemed to be studying Clint as blatantly as he was studying Will. The young man's piercing gaze seemed to go right through Clint and he fought the urge to shift uncomfortably. Suddenly, Will broke out into a wide easy grin and wiped his hands on his pants before approaching Clint with one of his hands extended. Clint hesitated only a second before he clasped Will's hand firmly in his and smiling back.

"It's good to see you awake. I'm Will," the youth said as he released Clint's hand, "and that's Halt." He gestured behind him to where Halt had taken a seat at the table.

Clint nodded and leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest. "I know. I overheard you two talking earlier." Despite his relaxed posture, Clint kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, his muscles ever-so-slightly tensed. As Coulson had told him during his training, "Always assume that you're in danger. That way, you won't be surprised when you find that you are." Of course, this stance didn't go unnoticed by the other men. Halt nodded to himself. If he suddenly found himself unarmed in a house surrounded by strangers, he would be a little tense, too.

"Do you have a name?" Halt asked.

Clint hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough to make Halt disbelieve his next few words. "I'm called Hawkeye." If these guys didn't know about modern technology, then he doubted that they would know about his identity as a hero either, but he still wanted to see if the name would ring any bells.

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Your _real_ name, Hawkeye." Apparently not.

"My name is Clint Barton. But I wasn't lying, people really do call me Hawkeye."

Halt nodded, motioning for Clint to take the third chair at the table. "And why is that?" The kettle began to whistle and Will stood to pour the rich black coffee into three cups.

Clint chuckled, shaking his head as he took his seat. "It's a long story."

Halt smiled. "Fair enough. There'll be time for that later. Where are you from, Clint?"

"New York City," Clint replied. He watched the other men's faces in the hope of a look of recognition or a nod. Their confused frowns only strengthened Clint's fears. He was a long, long way from home.

"Never heard of it," Will said as he set Clint's coffee in front of him. He took his own seat and spooned some honey into his coffee from the pot at the center of the table, frowning pensively the whole time. "Is that in Gallica?"

Now it was Clint's turn to frown. This was getting worse and worse for him by the minute. "Gallica? Is that in Europe?"

Will shook his head, his frown turning confused. "No. I've never even heard of Europe. Gallica's a large country across the Narrow Sea."

Clint leaned back in his chair with a sigh of resignation, his coffee forgotten. He might as well ask the question that had been plaguing him. "Where am I now?"

"You're in Araluen. Redmont fief, to be exact, just outside Castle Redmont," Halt replied, his head tilted to the side, as he regarded Clint, his face giving away nothing.

Clint locked eyes with him, his mouth set in a determined line. "What year is it?"

Halt hesitate briefly, glancing to Will, who shrugged. He turned back to Clint. "It's the 634th year of the common era. Were you expecting something different?"

Clint let out and exasperated groan, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table and shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes as his fears were confirmed. He was nearly fourteen centuries in the past. That would explain the rudimentary tech and differences in countries.

"I swear to God, I'm going to kill that horned bastard when I get back." He didn't dare replace that "when" with something shorter and more uncertain. He couldn't give up hope, not yet. That spell could have just as easily sent him into a coma and this could all just be in his head. He shook his head. If only his life were that simple.

Halt spoke again, this time in a more commanding tone. "Clint, are you from another year?"

Clint raised his head to look Halt in the eyes, willing him to believe his next words. "Yes. I'm from the year 2017."

Both of his cloaked hosts froze. Will stared at him in slack-jawed disbelief while Halt regarded him with impassive scrutiny. After several seconds of uneasy silence, Halt leaned back in his seat gestured regally towards Clint. "Prove it."

Clint blinked. He had been expecting some sort of exclamation of disbelief or confusion, not a calm and collected request for proof. He tilted his head in thought before experimentally patting his pockets. He had thought of using his phone, but he had left that at the tower. Who needed a phone when you had com links to communicate with your team mates? The only things he had on him were weapons. He guessed that that would have to do.

"You've already commented on the material that makes up my bow, arrows, and clothing," Clint began as he leaned back in his seat, his hands folded in his lap. "My bow is made from a steel alloy, which hasn't even been invented yet. The string is made from synthetic fibers, as are my clothes, which are resistant to most blades and projectiles. My arrows are plastic, which hasn't been invented yet either, with steel tips and they can do much more that pierce armor or flesh. They also explode, put out fires, _start_ fires, and do anything else that the scientists and engineers at S.H.I.E.L.D. deemed necessary for me to do my job." He smoothly pulled his gun from the holster on his thigh and set it on the table before leaning back again and crossing his arms over his chest. "That's a gun," he said, nodding to the weapon. "It shoots metal projectiles at a velocity so fast that you can barely see them, allowing them to pierce through practically any material, as long as it's in a thin enough layer." He scooped the weapon back up and replaced it in its holster. He watched as Halt's eyebrows rose. He was probably remembering how Clint had pulled the thing on him earlier. He quickly continued. "I guess you'll want more than my word. Do you have a place where I can shoot?"

Halt and Will stared at each other for a moment or two before Halt nodded. Will quickly stood, motioning for Clint to grab his bow and quivers with a grin. "Follow us. We have one out back."

Several minutes later, the three of them were standing a hundred and fifty feet from a scarred wooden target that had been nailed to a tree. Will and Halt stood to one side, their cowls slid back and their arms crossed as they watched Clint take his stance.

"Halt, he can't possibly be from the future," Will murmured, just loud enough for Halt to hear. "It just isn't possible."

Halt grunted as he watched Clint put five arrows into the center of the target in rapid succession, each within centimeters of the last. "You said it yourself, Will. He appeared right in front of you, which isn't possible. His clothes and weapons are make from materials that don't exist, which isn't possible. Maybe it's about time that we started accepting the impossible."

Clint heard every word of the exchange. Sometimes having hearing aids could come in really handy, especially when those hearing aids were developed by Tony Stark himself. As soon as Tony found out about Clint's disability, he immediately paid to have Clint's implants replaced with new and improved Stark tech, which actually gave Clint above-average hearing. Clint smiled in relief as he went to collect his arrows. At least they didn't think that he was crazy.

"Do you want me to demonstrate the exploding ones?" Clint asked, grinning as he walked back to the two cloaked figures. The fact that he was so excited about that prospect should have been worrying.

Halt smiled and shook his head. "I think a demonstration of your 'gun' should be enough."

Clint set his bow on the ground and shrugged with a resigned smile. "If you say so."

In one smooth motion, he turned, drew his gun, and fired a single round at the target. The two archers jumped at the sound and Will even had to glance at the sky to be sure that what he heard hadn't been a crack of thunder. Clint chuckled at their reaction, motioning for them to follow him to the target. The two men followed behind in bewilderment. Neither of them had seen any sign of a projectile.

"So how does that thing work?" Will asked as they walked the hundred fifty feet, nodding to the gun that Clint had replaced in his holster.

Clint hummed in thought. "Well," he said, tilting his head to consider the question, "the bullet is basically propelled by a small, controlled explosion." He slid the gun back out of its holster, deftly removing the clip to show Will the bullets inside as Halt watched from Will's other side. "There's a small amount of gunpowder in there which is ignited by a striking pin within the gun that is activated when I pull this trigger." He replaced the clip. "The explosion propels the bullet out of the barrel and towards the target," he concluded, sliding the gun back into his holster.

"That's ingenious!" Will exclaimed, grinning widely. Halt ducked his head to hide his amused grin. "How long does it take to reload?"

"The bullets are replaced automatically from the clip once they're fired, so it only takes as long as it takes for me to pull the trigger again." Clint waved his had dismissively. "But replacing the clip only takes me about two seconds."

Both Will's and Halt's eyebrows rose in surprise. That was certainly faster than any bowman could manage.

"Why use a bow when you've got that?" Will asked.

Clint shrugged with a smile. "I guess I just like my bow better. Besides, bullets don't usually explode."

Before either of the other men could comment on that, they had reached the target. Clint ran his finger over the center, where his bullet was just poking out of a ragged hole. Halt deftly freed his saxe knife from his scabbard, causing Clint's eyes to widen at the sharp serrated edge. Halt carefully pried the bullet from the wood, examining the piece of now-deformed metal in amazement.

He passed it to Will for him to examine before turning to Clint with a resigned sigh. "I think it's about time that we went and saw Baron Arald."

 **(A/N: Guess who's a high-school gra-du-aaate! :D Sorry guys with school trips and graduating and whatnot I literally haven't worked on this is two weeks. :( It probably won't get any better because I am preparing for college and I'm getting a job, but I promise that I WILL NOT drop this story!)**


	2. Crack!

**(A/N: Hey! I actually got this to you guys in a timely fashion! :D)**

"Who's Baron Arald?" Clint asked as they headed back towards the cabin.

"He's the ruler of Redmont fief," Halt replied as they strode across the grass with Will periodically jogging to keep up. "He reports to our monarch, King Duncan."

Clint nodded, silent for a few moments. "And how many fiefs are there?"

"Fifty," Halt replied shortly. Halt had a sudden feeling that this man would be almost as annoyingly inquisitive as Will.

Clint let out a low whistle. "Big country. How are we going to going to get an audience with the guy who runs one fiftieth of it?" he asked, strengthening Halt's suspicions.

Halt shrugged. "Well, Redmont is a rather large fief, so Arald actually controls a bit more than a fiftieth. As for getting an audience, I suspect we'll just walk through the door," he said as he mounted the veranda and opened the door to the cabin. Clint followed him inside, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I know nothing about medieval politics, so correct me if I'm wrong here, but wouldn't you have to schedule an audience? I mean, I wouldn't think that commoners would be allowed to just walk in without any notice," he elaborated as he followed Halt into the room next to Will's.

Halt gave Clint a severe look as he knelt in front of the chest at the base of his bed. "And what makes you so sure that we're commoners?" he asked as he opened the chest and started to shift through the clothes inside.

Clint blinked, a little taken aback, and glanced at Will, who was clearly hiding a grin behind his hand. "Well, you live in a log cabin," he said, turning back to Halt, who was pulling various garments from the chest and placing them on the bed. "I can't imagine any sort of royalty living in a three-roomed house, that's all."

"Oh really," Halt grunted as he rose from his kneeling position, continuing to pile on the mock severity as he studied Clint with a raised eyebrow. "What kind of house would royalty live in, then?"

Clint recognized the banter for what it was and copied Halt's severe look. "I was guessing a castle. You did say that you have those, right?"

Halt smirked. "Well, you're not wrong," he conceded as he continued to riffle through the trunk. "Will and I are the farthest you could get from royalty, but we aren't commoners either. We're Rangers." He finally found the pair of boots that he had been looking for. He closed the chest and set them on top, gesturing to them and the clothes on the bed. "Get changed. You can ask your questions on the way there."

He shooed Will out of the room, closing the door behind them to give Clint some privacy. Clint moved over to the bed, examining the clothes with some interest. They were identical to the wool clothing that Will and Halt wore, but without the cloak and double scabbard. Clint quickly changed as he thought about Halt's statement. What even were Rangers? The only thing that he could think of was Aragorn from the Lord of the Rings. So did that make these guys warriors? They must be pretty high ranking ones if they could just walk into the equivalent of a Governor's office unannounced. Will seemed fairly young to be one, so he must be Halt's apprentice. But then again, these were the dark ages. Clint wouldn't be surprised if Will was already a senior warrior by this point. The kid certainly seemed to carry an air of confidence around himself.

Suddenly, Clint felt a thrill of excitement. These guys had probably trained and fought with their bows for a long time. He'd never met another warrior archer before. Despite only knowing the both of them for about twenty minutes, he already trusted them completely. Clint didn't become a master assassin and spy without developing an innate sense of who he could trust. He couldn't wait to see what these two could teach him. He might be a long way from home, but that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy his time here. He knew that these kinds of things had a habit of working out. With Tony's and Bruce's genius and Thor's Asgardian knowledge of magic, limited as it was, they would probably have him home in no time.

He paused in the act of cinching the buckles on his boots as a momentary darkness draped itself over his mind. He quickly shook it off as he finished getting dressed. The others would bring him home. They wouldn't give up on a friend. He had to believe that.

He slung his quiver of regular arrows over his shoulder and grabbed up his bow before opening the door to find the two Rangers (he still wondered what exactly that title entailed) with their quivers on underneath their cloaks and their bows strung and slung across their backs. He could see that the long cloaks, which must be some kind of uniform, had a flap over their right shoulder that could easily be thrown back to expose the arrows in the quiver.

Halt gave him a quick once-over, nodding in approval. "You're still far too clean to pass as a local, but it'll suffice." He gestured to the bow in Clint's hand. "That'll have to stay here. It's just too…" He hesitated, trying to find the right word.

"Weird?" Will offered.

Halt frowned, glancing at Will. "I was going to say conspicuous. There just aren't any other weapons like it around here. It would draw too much attention. Unfortunately, we don't have any extra bows to lend you, but I doubt you'll need one in the castle anyway."

Clint listened attentively to his argument, but shook his head. "I have to bring it. You two seem trustworthy, but I can't say the same for the rest of the world. I'm already going into this situation blind, so I sure as hell won't be going unarmed as well." Halt's countenance darkened, but before he could reply, Clint held up a calming hand. "Don't worry, I'll keep it concealed until I absolutely need it."

Will tilted his head in curiosity. "How's that?"

Clint smirked. "Like this." He pressed a button on the grip of the bow and the arms folded in on themselves, turning the bow into a compact rectangular shape that he could easily tuck into the waistband of his pants. He snapped the bow out again, demonstrating how he could arm himself at a moment's notice.

Both of the Ranger's brows shot up at the display. They'd certainly never seen anything like that before.

"How does it not break when you draw it?" Halt asked, bending closer to stare at the bow as Clint held it up for them to examine. "I would think that those hinges would snap as soon as you loosed an arrow, especially with the abnormal amount of force that that bow has behind it."

Will nodded in agreement and amazement. "What even is your draw weight?" he added as he bent forward to study the hinge halfway up one of the arms of the bow. "Halt estimated that it has to be at least a hundred and fifty pounds."

Clint shrugged. "I don't know how it doesn't break. The S.H.I.E.L.D. techs were the ones who designed and built this thing, not me. I'm just the guy who shoots it. As for the draw weight, they told me that it was 200 pounds."

Will let out a low whistle, his eyes wide. "That's twice Halt's."

Halt simply smiled. "Well, you are full of surprises." He ducked into his room again, emerging with another quiver of black-feathered arrows. "Here," he said, handing them to Clint, "at least use those. Your own arrows are an issue as well."

Clint set his own quiver on the table and slung Halt's over his back, folding his bow and tucking it into his waistband at the small of his back as he followed the two Rangers out the door. As they headed down the path that would lead them through a half mile of farmland to a haphazard little village in the distance, two short, shaggy horses in a stable near the house nickered in greeting. Will waved at them cheerfully as Halt held up his hand in a 'wait' gesture. The bearded Ranger had done the same thing earlier that day when they had gone to see Clint demonstrate his weapons. The horses didn't seem to be tethered or fenced in in any way, and yet they never strayed from their stable.

"They're well trained," Clint observed, impressed as he looked to Halt.

Halt nodded, a small proud smile gracing his lips. "All Ranger horses are well bred and put through vigorous training. If you earn their trust, they'll never let you down."

Clint nodded, turning his gaze to the countryside around them as they emerged from the woods. The air out here was clean and clear, with none of the pollution and smog that had plagued New York. The faint scent of wood smoke and the stronger scent of manure drifted past him, bringing memories of his farm and his family there. Another moment of darkness clouded his mind, but he shoved it away again. He'd just have to trust in his team. Nat knew where they were and the older kids would be able to help Laura with the baby. This wouldn't be the first time that he was away from home for a long time. He knew they would be fine. He just wished that he could see that with his own eyes.

They walked for several minutes through the farmland, passing several villagers who gave the stranger and cloaked Rangers one look and immediately frowned and turned back to the tasks in front of them. Clint raised an eyebrow at his two companions.

"You don't seem to be very popular with the villagers," he observed.

Halt let out a small huff, a smirk curling over his face. "Yeah, you could say that. A lot of them think that Rangers practice dark magic. Farmers also aren't the most trustworthy type. They usually give strangers the cold shoulder, so you might as well get used to it."

Clint frowned and opened his mouth, but Halt anticipated his question.

"They think that we practice dark magic because they don't understand how we can move without being seen," Halt explained, "All Rangers are trained in unseen and silent movement, along with archery, knife throwing, tactics, hand-to-hand combat, geography, and any other subject that they might find useful."

"That's a lot," Clint mused with a laugh, looking to Halt, who was walking on his left side. "Kind of reminds me of my own training."

"It is!" Will confirmed with a grave nod of his head from Halt's left. "A lot, I mean. Apprentices are trained for years before they can graduate as a full-fledged Ranger. I'm in my third year and I'm still nowhere close to being ready." He looked up at Clint in curiosity. "What were you trained as? You keep mentioning something called 'shield'. Is that some sort of knight's order? I never thought of a bow as a knight's weapon."

Clint gave a chuckle. "No, we don't have knights in my time. S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. It's a secret organization that operates independently of my country's government to take down international threats that might threaten our or other country's citizens. I used to be an assassin and spy for S.H.I.E.L.D. They would send me out to take down various scumbags. Arms dealers, drug lords, terrorists." He ticked the examples off on his fingers. "You name it and I've probably had to deal with it. More recently, I've been a part of an elite group within S.H.I.E.L.D. called the Avengers," he explained, kicking a pebble so that it hit a knot in a nearby tree.

"Your S.H.I.E.L.D. sounds a lot like our Ranger Corps," Halt said, nodding. "Rangers are assigned to each fief to deal with trouble before it becomes a problem and to make sure that the baron and craft masters are doing their jobs. We report directly to the king, so we aren't under the command of the people that we're overseeing. We offer him counsel in times of need and when cults or governments in other countries become a threat, we're sent to gather intelligence and deal with the problem if necessary."

Clint raised his eyebrows at the other man, impressed. "So that's why you can just walk in and see the Baron. You guys are of equal rank," he summarized, glancing between Halt and Will with an impressed look.

Will's chest puffed out a bit, obviously proud of station in life. That is, until Halt spoke up. "Well, _I_ am. The only people that Will outranks are those farmers over there," he said dryly, turning his head so that Will couldn't see him wink at Clint as the apprentice deflated considerably. Clint simply chuckled as Will almost immediately perked back up.

"What are your teammates like?" Will asked as he peered around Halt. They were a quarter of a mile away from the village now.

Clint grinned. "They're some of the most dysfunctional, damaged, reckless, brave, intelligent, and selfless people I have ever met," he said, staring off at the horizon. "We started out with six members, but now we have more than double that. Most of them have powers or abilities that you people really would consider to be witchcraft."

Halt frowned as Will tilted his head in an owlish fashion. "What kind of powers?" Halt asked.

Clint gave them both a sidelong look and a smirk. "Neither of you would believe me even if I told you."

Halt's frown deepened but there was an unmistakable spark of mischief in his eyes as he said, "Try me."

Clint shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He looked ahead to their dirt road morphed into the cobblestone streets that ran between the storefronts and houses of Wensley Village. Another minute's walk and they would be in the steady flow of villages moving in and out of the streets. "But I think that can wait until later."

Halt followed his gaze to the town ahead and the crowds of people that one always found in these kinds of villages. He nodded. These kinds of stories could wait until they didn't have to worry about someone eavesdropping.

As they walked through the town, Will pointed out different shops and landmarks to Clint. The buildings rarely exceeded a single story and they were mainly composed of whitewashed wattle and daub with timber frames and thatched rooves. The only two-story house in the entire village was the inn.

"The silversmith and butcher are back that way," Will said, gesture back down the main road to the other side of the town. "The quay is down on the Tarbus River, obviously, and the battle school and horse school are over near Castle Redmont on the other side." He pointed to each direction in turn, alternatively giving Clint a tour and nodding to different villagers as they passed them. The villagers seemed to like Will better than Halt. Some of them even deigned to nod back.

Suddenly, a delicious smell drifted past the three of them. It smelled like roasting meat, but better than any other meat that Clint had ever smelled before. His stomach immediately let out a loud growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten at Halt's cabin after all.

Halt smirked and pointed up to the right. "And that's Jenny's restaurant. Best place to eat in all of Redmont fief."

Will beamed with pride. "Some people say that she's even better than Master Chubb."

Halt smiled down at his apprentice. "Careful. Don't let him hear you say that."

"Who's Master Chubb?" Clint asked. The three had stopped outside the fletcher's shop and his stomach continued to growl as the smell from the nearby restaurant washed over them.

"He's the kitchen master up in the castle," Will explained, gesturing up at the three-walled fort. "Jenny became his apprentice the same time that I became Halt's. We're both castle wards, you see. A little while ago, Jenny left and started her own restaurant, which has been flourishing ever since." Clint's stomach chose that moment to let out a particularly loud growl.

Halt smirked. "I think we have time to take a short detour. I'm worried that that monster in your shirt will eat you if we don't feed it soon."

Clint shook his head wryly and followed them into the restaurant. He had to duck in order to get through the door, but the inside was warm and the delicious scent from outside was even stronger. To the left of the door was a bar and a door that probably led to the kitchens. The rest of the room was filled with tables and chairs, a few of which were occupied by customers conversing and nursing tankards of ale. Conversation stalled as Clint and the two Rangers entered the room, but they quickly lost interest in them as a blonde girl that seemed to be about Will's age rounded the bar.

"Will, Halt, how good to see you!" she exclaimed, pulling first one, then the other into a hug. "Rafe, table for three!" she yelled over her shoulder. "And who's this?" she asked, turning to Clint as a young man came out and started to set up their table.

"Clint Barton, ma'am," Clint introduced himself, shaking her hand. "Halt and Will tell me that you're restaurant is the best in the fief."

"Do they now?" she mused, smiling at the two Rangers as she almost absentmindedly cracked the ladle in her left hand over Rafe's head. Clint winced at the sound as Jenny turned to the waiter. "Knife on the right, dear. Now what would you all like to eat?" she asked, turning back to the trio. "I have a wonderful hog on the spit at the moment with sliced and grilled potatoes and herbs, as well as a lamb stew with peaches. And then I have my tomato and herb soup and for desert I have several pies that are just out of the oven."

"I think that lamb stew sounds delicious, Jenny," Halt said as they all took a seat at the table that Rafe had finally managed to set up.

"Excellent! I'll have that right out," she exclaimed as she bustled back into the kitchen, cracking another server over the head as she passed.

Clint whistled lowly under his breath. "That woman's a force to be reckoned with."

Will laughed. "You have no idea."

 **(A/N: So… They were actually supposed to get to Baron Arald's office, have a conversation, and actually get started on their quest by the end of this chapter but the characters decided to be chatter boxes and I didn't want to have you guys wait any longer. XD So yeah, they'll be doing all that next chapter!)**


	3. In Which I Finally Finish the Exposition

**(A/N: Sorry if you guys get the notification for this chapter twice! :( I accidentally posted the wrong document.)**

It was no secret that Clint Barton was a foodie. When he wasn't sleeping or training, he was eating. He'd cleaned out Stark's and his own fridge more than once due to his nonstop snacking. He'd eaten food from every corner of the globe and he'd found more than one dish that he could describe as nothing but heavenly.

Jenny's lamb stew blew every other competitor so far out of the water that Clint didn't think he would ever be satisfied with anything else ever again.

The lamb chunks practically melted in his mouth and the concoction was just the right mixture of sweet and savory. Clint was tempted to ask her for the recipe, but he dismissed the idea. He doubted that he would ever be able to make it half as well as Jenny had.

The three companions wolfed down the stew in record time and stayed in the restaurant for a few minutes, nursing steaming cups of coffee that Jenny had set out with the bowls of stew. When they were ready to go, they called Rafe over.

"What can I help you with, sir?" Rafe asked when Halt beckoned him over.

"Give this to Jenny for me," Halt said as he handed Rafe a few. The chef had declared that their food was on the house when she had brought it out, but she'd already given them two other free meals in that month alone. Halt had decided that she was getting paid whether she liked it or not.

They stepped out onto the street and resumed their walk towards the castle that was across the river. The structure was enormous, with three outer walls composed of some sort of red stone that seemed to glow in the sunlight. Clint could see soldiers patrolling the battlements from here, the sun glinting off of their helmets and spears. Three towers stood at the corners of the castle where the walls met. In the center of the walls was a fourth tower that was considerably taller than the others, which Clint assumed to be the Baron's private quarters. The structure was almost as impressive as Stark Tower. Suddenly, Clint remembers something that Will had mentioned earlier.

"Will, you said something about being a 'castle ward'," Clint said, turning to look at the apprentice on his right with a small frown. "What does that mean?"

Will glanced up at Clint with a smile before looking towards the castle ahead. "It means I was lucky. My dad was a sergeant in the army. He died saving Halt from a bunch of Wargals." Clint looked to Halt, who was walking ahead of them. The Ranger didn't seem to be paying attention, but Clint was sure he was hearing every word. "My dad told him where my mom was before he died. She was pregnant with me at the time and Halt helped her to give birth, but she still died in the process."

Will looked sad at that, but it was more of a regretful look than one of grief. Clint could understand that. His parents had died in a car crash when he was six. He still regretted that he hadn't had the chance to get to know them better. But he actually had memories of his parents, even if they were a bit hazy. He could only imagine what it would be like to not remember your parents at all.

"Halt brought me here after he buried her," Will continued, gesturing to the castle. "I was raised in the castle with four other kids my age. When we turned fifteen, we all chose our apprenticeships. I was denied battle school, horse school, and every other apprenticeship that I asked for." Will huffed out a self-conscious laugh. "Halt took me on as his apprentice after I climbed through a window into the Baron's study at the top of the Keep in order to look at a paper that he had given the Baron during our choosing. The whole thing was a test. Apparently, he had been considering me as an apprentice for quite a while."

Clint looked up at the castle, which was drawing closer every minute. The keep must be the larger tower in the center. If Will had really climbed that thing, then Clint was immensely impressed.

"My parents both died in a crash when I was six," Clint said. Will gave him a confused look, so he elaborated. "A car crash. Cars are these metal carriages that can move at a fast gallop without any horses pulling them," he explained. "If you lose control and hit a tree at that speed, like we did, then it's really easy to get hurt." Will nodded in understanding, his gaze sympathetic. "What I'm saying is that I understand." Will nodded again, this time with a grateful smile, and they both walked on in companionable silence. Ahead of them, Halt smiled.

The trio passed over a bridge that spanned what Will had called the Tarbus River. The water rushed past underneath them, deep and cool, its edges bubbling against the banks. Ahead of them rose Castle Redmont. It was even larger up close, its walls alone reaching over 30 feet high. The land around the castle was cleared for a quarter mile, allowing the guards to see any attacking force before they could get anywhere near the castle. Of to the right, thuds and yells came from what looked to be a training ground near a long, low building. A little farther away was another slightly taller building where Clint could see young men leading and riding huge battle horses.

"That's battle school," Will explained, pointing to the nearer building where trainees were hacking with wooden swords at dummies as drill sergeants called the strokes. "My friend Horace went there. He's already graduated as a full-fledged knight. The other building is horse school, where we train our battle horses."

Clint shook his head in amazement. Castles he could deal with. He'd seen plenty of those in the 21st century. The same went for the little village that they had just passed through. He could name twenty little villages just like it in third world countries that he had visited. There was just something about words like "knight" and "battle horse" that slammed the whole time travel concept home.

They walked across the drawbridge unimpeded, the guards nodding to the two rangers as they passed. More than one gave Clint a curious look, but no one stopped them to ask questions. The three warriors quickly crossed the main courtyard and entered the Keep, mounting the staircase that curled clockwise around the tower. Clint could already see how a staircase curving to the right would improve security and limit the power of attacking forces. By the time they had reached the third landing, Clint was incredibly thankful that he was in such good shape.

After several minutes of cardio, Halt finally led them into a small room guarded by two fully armored men. Inside was an ironbound oak door that most likely led into the baron's… Throne room? Chambers? Clint wasn't sure what to expect. Along the walls stood wooden benches and next to the door there was a wooden table with a thin, balding man seated behind it. The desk was covered in neat, organized piles of paperwork.

When the three entered, the man hopped up and rounded his desk to firmly shake Halt's hand.

"Halt! Just the man we wanted to see! Just the man!" he exclaimed as he pumped Halt's hand up and down. He finally released the abused appendage and turned to look Clint up and down with a sever gaze. "And who are you?"

"Clint Barton, sir," Clint offered, holding out his hand after only a slight hesitation.

The man seized Clint's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Barton. You may call me Martin."

Clint gave him a small smile and a nod as he took back his hand. Martin had a surprisingly strong grip for such a thin man.

"Martin, if you don't mind, we need to speak with Baron Arald about some important matters," Halt said.

"Yes, of course! I'll announce you all to Lord Arald, shall I?" Martin offered, walking towards the door with a very strange gait, all elbows and knees. Clint supposed that he was trying to march, but he certainly wasn't achieving the desired effect.

Halt quickly strode forward and gripped the secretary's shoulder. "That won't be necessary, Martin."

Martin deflated a bit at that. "If you say so," he said with a nod, returning to his seat behind his desk.

Halt pulled open the door and strode in, Will and Clint following close behind. Clint peered around him in curiosity as they entered what appeared to be a study. The stone floor was covered in a carpet that leaned more toward functionality rather than decoration. The wall to the right was lined with book shelves. On the wall opposite it was a large open window with no glass panes to keep out the slow, cool breeze that drifted past. Instead, it had wooden shutters that could be pulled closed to block out the cold or heat. Clint smiled as he realized that that must be the window that Will had climbed through several years ago. Across from the door stood a large oak table with far less paperwork stacked on it than the one outside. Of course, that wasn't saying much, seeing as Martin had enough paper to set the entire castle ablaze. In front of the desk stood several wooden chairs.

Behind the desk sat a man that didn't fit any of the stereotypes surrounding political figures. He was immense, at least half a head taller than Clint. His arms and shoulders were muscular and scarred. A sword hung on his chair next to him, but Clint didn't need it to see that he was a warrior. Between the scars and the confidence in his posture, it wasn't hard to guess. Clint could tell that the baron wasn't just a hack-and-slash kind of guy, however. The man had intelligence, wisdom, and humor in his gaze. Clint liked him immediately.

The baron looked up from the papers in front of him as the trio entered the room and quickly rose, circling his desk to shake Halt's hand.

"Halt! Will! Just the men I wanted to see!" The Baron exclaimed, engulfing Halt's hand in his own and ruffling Will's hair. "I was just about to send a messenger to summon you. There's been some trouble in a nearby village that I need you to investigate."

Halt nodded with a small frown of concern as Will attempted to fix his hair with a grin. "Well, then it's good that we came. We've actually run into some trouble of our own." He gestured towards Clint, waving him forward. "Arald, this is Clint Barton. He's from another time." Halt's face was carefully blank at that last statement. He was obviously trying hard not to smirk at the confused look on the Baron's face.

"Another what?" The Baron asked, looking at Halt in concern.

"It's true, sir," Clint said, drawing the man's attention back to him. "I'm from the year 2017, nearly fourteen centuries in the future."

The Baron glanced between him and the two Rangers with his eyebrow drawn together, obviously confused and wondering if his advisors had finally lost their marbles.

"That's impossible," he said with a frown as he studied Clint, obviously trying to spot the crazy in his eyes.

Halt nodded. "We thought so, too, but apparently not."

The Baron huffed, running his right hand through his graying hair as he planted the other on his hip. "How?" he finally asked, motioning for them to explain.

Clint smiled kindly in understanding and motioned to the desk and the chairs in front of it. "I was holding off on explaining that until we got here, actually. You all might want to take a seat. This could take a while."

The Baron nodded slowly and reclaimed his seat behind his desk as Will, Halt, and Clint claimed the three chairs in front of it. Will sat forward eagerly on his seat, his elbows propped on his knees. Halt sat back in his chair, his cowl thrown back as he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Clint impassively. Baron Arald leaned forward to steeple his hands under his chin, his elbows resting on a small cleared space on his desk. Clint looked to each of them before blowing out a sigh and sitting up straight in his seat.

 _Just another debriefing_ , he thought before launching into his explanation.

"So I guess I'll start with the basics. You already know my name and what year I'm from. I hail from the United States of America, which is a large country made up of fifty states, much like your Araluen is made up of fifty fiefs. I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., which is an organization that operates independently of my county's government to ensure the protection of the world from large-scale threats like alien invasions, terrorist groups, evil sorcerers, interdimensional beings, and so on."

Baron Arald suddenly held up his hand, a confused frown on his face. "Forgive me, but what do you mean by aliens and interdimensional beings? And what are terrorists? Also, sorcerers don't exist! You aren't making any sense!" the Baron exclaimed, looking to Halt with a confused look. " _None_ of this makes sense. Time travel just isn't possible, Halt! I refuse to sit here and listen to the ravings of a mad man."

The Baron stood, probably to demand that Clint leave leave, but Clint stood with him and quickly slid the collapsible bow from the small of his back, snapping it out into its full form. The Baron's eyes widened in amazement as the bow suddenly appeared before his eyes.

"If you want proof, here it is," Clint said, his eyes cold. "None of the materials that were used to make this bow have been invented yet. Neither has the mechanism that allows it to fold or the manufacturing techniques that allows it to have a draw weight of 200 pounds. I've already demonstrated the technology that I brought with me for Halt and Will and they have been convinced that I'm telling the truth. If you won't believe me, then believe your advisors."

Arald's eyes widened in shock at the stranger's commanding tone. He quickly turned to Halt, the Baron's eyes imploring Halt to be straight with him. Halt nodded resolutely, his eyes hard. Arald turned back to Clint and nodded apologetically before slowly sitting back down.

Clint sighed and took his seat as well, resting his bow across his lap. "Aliens are intelligent beings that are not human and come from the stars. Interdimensional beings are similar, but they come from alternate dimensions, which are basically different versions of our reality that exist side by side, but that never mix. Terrorists are people that create terror by blowing things and people up. They usually do it to send a message and to try to threaten people into compliance with how they think the world should work. And yes, sorcerers do exist," he said with a weary sigh. "I should know. It was one of them that sent me here."

"We have methods of instant communication in the future." Clint fiddled with his bowstring as he talked. "A person can speak into one device and another person can hear their voice through their own device, even if they're hundreds of miles away. My team, the Avengers, received one of those communications yesterday with an order to go to the other side of the city. There we found a sorcerer named Loki. He's caused us a lot of difficulties in the past and when we found him, he was in the middle of casting a spell. We didn't realize that it was a trap until it was to late. Next thing I knew, I was surrounded by this weird glowing light and I blacked out. When I came to, I was in Halt's cabin. Apparently, I had simply appeared out of nowhere, right in front of the target that Will had been about to shoot at," he finished with a chuckle and a smile at the young apprentice, who grinned sheepishly back.

Baron Arald shook his head in amazement. "Incredible," he mused. "I'll have to admit, I'm still not entirely sure that I believe you."

Clint nodded. "I assumed as much. I don't think it matters if you do or not. There's no way that you could help me get home. I trust my friends to find a way to do that."

The Baron steepled his hands on his desk and leaned forward to piece Clint with a stare that somehow managed to remind him of Director Fury. "And if they don't?"

Clint looked down at his bow and steeled himself, pushing back the despair and locking it away deep inside himself. He had no use for it. He looked back at the Baron. "They will."

Arald nodded, still not convinced but willing to let the man believe his own words.

"Sir, you said earlier that there's been some trouble in a nearby village," Halt noted as he regarded his friend. "What sort of trouble are we talking about?"

"A woman came to visit me earlier today. She wasn't the most respectful, but that was understandable. Her three daughters have been kidnapped by a knight that had been passing through their village, which is about a day's ride from here." Arald pulled a map out of one of his drawers and spread it out so that it was facing Halt. "There," he said, pointing to a small village near the border of the fief. "Debber's Crossing."

Halt examined the map for a moment before nodding. "Did the woman give you her name?"

"Her name is Rose Herring," Arald said. "She lives just north of the village on a plot of farm land."

Halt nodded, standing from his chair and heading towards the door without waiting to see if Clint and Will would follow him.

"We'll be there by tomorrow," he said, slipping out the door with Will and Clint close behind.

 **(A/N: FINALLY! Now, on to the action! :D Be sure to review, favorite, and follow ;) )**


	4. After Half a Year, Half a Day Passes

**(A/N: Heeeeyyyyy…. So, it's been about half a year…. Sorry about that! :/ The only explanation that I can give you is "college" because that's the only excuse that I have and I am sorry, but it was unavoidable. The good news is that I just finished my first semester and I'm on my way to obtaining a degree in creative writing, so yeah! :) Fun! I really should be writing daily and I'll have less classes next semester, so I might start writing more, but NO PROMISES! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and that you have a wonderful week! :) (P.S. I might post some of the short stories that I wrote for my intro to fiction class if you guys express any interest :3 The one's pretty gay and I think you guys would like it)**

It didn't take long for them to walk back to the cabin and the trio were ready to ride within the hour. The two Rangers were obviously used to these sorts of situations and it took them only half an hour to pack up their provisions, camping equipment, and various weapons and saddle up their horses.

"Do you ride?" Halt asked as he cinched his horse, Abelard's, saddle into place.

Clint nodded. "My wife and I have two horses back home."

Halt turned to pierce him with a searching gaze. "You have a wife?"

Clint nodded. "And two kids with a third on the way."

Halt didn't say anything as he took in Clint's straight back and firm, carefully blank gaze. He simply nodded back and gave the archer's shoulder a steadying squeeze as he walked past him to duck back into the house and grab the last bag of field rations.

They rode back into town several minutes later with Clint riding behind Will. Clint had watched in fascination as Will had whispered a code phrase into the shaggy horse's ear, explaining how Tug would throw Clint if he didn't. Through the entire ride into the village, Clint asked question after question about the horse's training and the signals that the Rangers used to communicate with them.

Clint was surprised, to say the least, when Halt bought him his own horse as they rode through town. The mare, whose name was Diana, was a hand or two taller than the horse's that the Ranger's rode, with a slightly shaggy earth-brown coat and a black mane and tail that had both been lovingly brushed. She had intelligent, kind eyes that didn't seem to miss a thing and Clint knew immediately that she was perfect for him.

The rest of the day was spent riding through forests and fields as they made their way across the fief. They were about halfway through their journey when dusk started to settle over the forest, the lavender sky signaling that it was time for them to make camp. They quickly found a small clearing off to the side of the path that they had been traveling on for the past hour and pitched the two one-man tents that Halt and Will had brought along before building a small fire in the middle of the clearing. Halt set about making a simple stew using the potatoes, carrots, and venison that he had brought along and Clint watched in fascination as he worked. By the time the stew was finished, Clint's stomach was growling loudly enough to wake the dead.

Halt served the stew in wooden bowls and the three of them dug in. Clint didn't come up for air until he had finished the entire bowl plus seconds. The two Rangers were looking on in equal parts fascination and horror by that point, having already finished their own meals.

"I don't think I've ever met a man who could eat more. He'd probably give Horace a run for his money," Halt remarked to Will with a smirk.

"And I don't think I've ever met anyone who could cook so well," Clint said with a contented sigh as he leaned back against one of their packs and set his bowl on the ground next to his bow and quiver, which they had retrieved from the cabin. "Who taught you? Or did you teach yourself?"

"I'm mostly self-taught, but I've met many chefs along the way," Halt replied, leaning against his own pack.

"Cooking is actually a vital part of Ranger training," Will supplied as his fiddled with his spoon. "Without it, we'd be forced to eat a lot of cold rations."

"And what's so wrong with cold rations?" Halt asked, turning to his apprentice with a raised eyebrow.

Will wrinkled his nose. "Their unappetizing, plain, and bland," he said simply.

Halt smiled and nodded. "Fair enough."

"You know, I've never tasted anything as delicious as this time period's food," Clint said. "Even Wanda never cooked this well, and she was excellent."

"Who's Wanda?" Will asked, still fiddling with his spoon.

"She's one of my teammates," Clint said with a smile. "I recruited her and her brother Pietro a few years ago. At the time, they were working for this guy named Ultron, who was trying to exterminate mankind. Of course, they didn't know this, so it wasn't too hard to convert them," he said with a shrug.

"You said that your teammates had powers, right?" Will asked, leaning forward eagerly. "Did these two have any?"

Clint chuckled. "Yeah. And believe me, you never want to be on the wrong end of them. Wanda and Pietro are both mutants that were experimented on by an evil organization called Hydra. Mutants are people with special powers given to them by something inside them called the X-Gene. Wanda can manipulate objects with her mind, read the minds of other people, and force others to see visions. We call her the Scarlet Witch. Pietro calls himself Quicksilver. He can run so fast that you can't see him. He's snatched my arrows and even my bullets out of the air more than once."

The two Rangers blinked at him.

"You know, if Will didn't see you appear out of thin air and we hadn't seen you fire that gun, I don't think that I would believe you. At this point, I think I'm willing to believe just about anything," Halt said as he crossed his arms over his chest and slowly shook his head.

"What about you're other teammates?" Will asked eagerly, a wide grin on his face.

For the next hour, Clint told them about impossible people. He told them about the army captain that was frozen in ice for seventy years and the man's best friend, who had a metal arm and had been under mind control for most of his life. He told them about the kind, quiet man that could turn into a wrathful giant and the god of Thunder who liked to visit the animal shelter on weekends. He told them about a fifteen-year-old that could climb walls as easy as walking, a man that could shrink to the size of an ant, the ex-soldier with metal wings, and the two men with impenetrable suits of armor. He tried to explain the man with a gem embedded in his forehead who was also a machine and the warrior king who would always choose peace over revenge. But mostly, he told them about his best friend, an ex-assassin who could kill you a hundred different ways. But she wasn't just a killer. She danced beautifully and sang Russian lullabies when she thought no one else could hear. He told them about the times that she had helped him to prank Tony and how she gave Peter tips in hand-to-hand. She was quiet and calculating, but that didn't mean that she wasn't observant and kind.

"I think you guys would like her," Clint said as he twirled an arrow between his fingers, the fire in front of them starting to die down. "She has the same quiet presence and commanding tone." He smirked. "You probably would have liked all of them, actually. They're bat-shit crazy and Tony's a pain in the ass, but they're good people."

Halt smiled as Will tried to stifle a yawn. "I think we would, if we ever got the chance to meet them. Your time certainly sounds like an interesting place."

Clint chuckled. "Yeah, it certainly is."

Halt dumped the dregs from the coffee that he had been nursing into the fire as he stood and dusted off his pants. "I'll take first watch. Will, I'll wake you in a few hours."

Clint and Will stood and brushed themselves off as Halt crossed the clearing. The Ranger seated himself against a tree at the edge of the clearing and the other two men immediately lost sight of his against the dark foliage.

Clint blinked as he stared at the spot where he knew Halt had to be. "That's incredible."

Will grinned as he followed Clint's gaze. "It is, isn't it? Halt's one of the best in the Corp."

The two of them moved over to the two low tents and crawled inside. Clint collapsed onto the bed roll and his head had barely touched the ground before he was fast asleep.

Clint was on watch when the sky finally started to lighten. It didn't take long for him to wake the other two and after a frugal breakfast and more coffee, they were on their way. They rode for a few more hours through the forest before they finally reached farmland again. Ahead of them stretched miles of wheat, corn, and potatoes with farmhouses scattered here and there like old toys that a child had lost interest in. In the center of the fields was a cluster of six buildings, which must have been Debber's Crossing.

The three companions trotted down the dirt road that bisected the fields, eliciting curious and guarded glances from the field workers as they passed. Once they were close enough to one of them, Halt reigned in Abalard, signaling for Clint and Will to stop as well.

"Hello!" Halt called out, heralding a farmhand that was pulling weeds within hearing distance. "Do you know where we can find a Miss Rose Herring?"

The man furrowed his brows, eyeing the two Rangers with slight suspicion.

"She lives over yonder," he called, gesturing to a farm house a few fields over without taking his eyes off the strangers. "Why?"

"Official business," Halt replied with a nod. "Thank you for your time."

A few minutes later, they were approaching in the house. The walls were white-washed wattle and daub that had turned a dusty beige long ago. The thatched roof sagged in the middle and unlike Halt's cabin, the windows only had rickety shutters to keep out the elements rather than canvas coverings. Off to the side stood an outhouse that seemed to be leaning a bit to the right. A woman emerged through the sagging front door of the house as they approached. She was middle aged, with gaunt features and a plain beige dress that almost perfectly blended in with her house. Her eyes were a warm brown, but they were piercing and severe, more like the brown of a sharpened stick than that of chocolate or whatever else that color is usually compared to. Clint immediately didn't trust her and he was willing to bet that the Rangers had the same instinct.

"About time you showed," she greeted them irritably, a deep frown creasing her already-wrinkled face.

Halt gave her a slight bow from his saddle. "I apologize. Castle Redmont _is_ a day's ride from here, after all."

Rose huffed, motioning for them to dismount before turning sharply on her heel and walking back into her house.

Halt sighed softly before swinging down from his saddle. Will and Clint followed suit and Clint secured Diana's reins to Tug's before the three of them followed Rose indoors. The inside of the hut was just as battered as the outside and was segmented into two rooms. The main room took up most of the house. There were two windows, one on the back wall and one to the left of the door. There was a wood stove tucked into the corner with two straw mattresses leaned against the wall a few feet away. On the other side of the room near the door was a sink, table, and two chairs. Other than that, the room was pretty bare. The doorway to the second room lacked a door and through it Clint could see a small bed, a table with a basin and a bar of soap, and a big chest like the one at Halt's cabin.

Rose took a seat at the table as they came in and glowered up at them.

"I'm assume you'll be wanting the full story," Rose said as Clint gazed around the room from his stance behind the two Rangers.

"Yes, ma'am, that would be useful," Halt replied, his tone somewhat flat. It hadn't escaped any of their notice that Rose hadn't offered them seats, despite their long ride here. Normally, the Rangers would have just chalked that up to worry or grief, but Rose didn't seem to be experiencing either of those emotions.

"A knight showed up here three days ago," she began as Clint continued to examine the room, filing away anything that was of interest for later. "I walked outside to see him talking to my daughters out in the field. Ever since their deadbeat father skipped out on us, they've been taking care of the crops. I shooed him off, told him to move along, but he obviously came back because the next morning, my girls were gone," she snapped, waving her hand at the mattresses up against the wall. "Beds empty! Clothing gone! Thank god they never knew where the money was kept, otherwise they would have taken that, too." Clint began to amble around the room, glancing at the stove and pocking at the mattresses. This eliciting a glare from Rose, but she didn't reprimand him. "That knight must have seduced them and dragged them away in the middle of the night."

Halt nodded, his brow furrowed. "Were you able to see this knight's coat of arms?" he asked.

Rose shrugged. "It was hard to see from a distance. It looked like a red tree, but I couldn't be sure."

Halt nodded again, his countenance darkening even further. He could check the records in his bag, but he was quite sure that there weren't any knights in the kingdom that had a red tree in their coat of arms.

"Could you tell us what your daughters look like, Miss. Herring?" Will asked, his face earnest.

"They're all tall, real skinny, all got my brown hair," she said, gesturing to the thin strands that were tied up in a strict bun. "They're all in their mid-twenties. The oldest is named Anthea, middle one is Leah, and the youngest is Sarah."

The two Rangers thanked her for her time and promised that they would find her girls as they headed back outside with Clint trailing behind them. She simply grunted that they'd better before slamming the door shut behind them.

"If those girls really did leave of their own free will, then I have no trouble seeing why," Clint said as he and Will looked back at the old, dried-out door. The three of them mounted their horses and headed off towards the cluster of buildings in the center of town. Maybe there would be someone there that could tell them where the knight had gone.

"Did you see anything of interest?" Halt asked as they moved away from the house. "I'm assuming you noticed the manacles behind the stove."

Clint nodded, a scowl twisting his face. Will looked between them with an alarmed look.

"Wait, what manacles?" he exclaimed.

Clint shook his head grimly. "There was a pair chained to the foot of the stove. Anyone with those on wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. I…" Clint reached up and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I think I saw dried blood on them, but I couldn't be sure." He scowled as he glanced over at his companions. "Do you guys have anti-cruelty laws around here or am I going to have to come back when we're done and make sure that she treats her kids right?"

Clint didn't seem like the kind of person that would beat up someone who couldn't fight back, but the dark look in his eyes made both of the Rangers doubt that assumption.

Halt gave him a stern look. "We do. There's no need to become a vigilantly just yet. Let's focus on finding these girls first and then we'll arrest the mother."

Clint nodded, satisfied with that, and looked ahead, his gaze going straight through the approaching houses and far into the distance.

They spent the rest of the day asking around the village as they searched for anyone who might have seen the knight and where he'd headed. They finally managed to find a pot-bellied man outside the local blacksmith who said that he'd seen him while he'd been out drinking.

"I don't remember much from that night," the man had said with an amused shake of his head. "My buddy's wife is expecting and we were celebrating, you see, but I don't think I'd be able to forget seeing a knight leading three young women out of town." He frowned up at Halt, who sat astride Abelard. "An awefully strange sight, that. Last I saw, they were heading thataway towards Ringer Village, the town east of here," he said as he pointed towards one of the roads that headed out of the village.

Halt nodded gratefully to the man as he handed him a silver coin and said, "Thank you." He trotted out of the village with Will and Clint close behind.

The three of them moved through countryside and forests for the next few hours, sometimes bantering with each other or swapping battle stories and sometimes sitting in companionable silence. The sun was once again dipping towards the horizon when they finally emerged from the forest and arrived at Ringer Village.

The village was fairly large, with about twenty buildings separated by wide thoroughfares and thin alleys. The three men immediately headed for the center of town where they could see a steep-rooved two-story building that must be the inn. Despite the encroaching twilight, there were still plenty of people bustling along the main road that bisected the town like a spine. A lot of them cast curious glances at the two Rangers and bow-less archer, but they quickly and resolutely averted their gazes.

"There it is!" Will exclaimed, pointing forward to where the inn sat on the right side of the road and leaned slightly out over the cobblestones. "Enjoy this while it lasts," he said, turning to look at Clint with a wry smile. "After this, it'll probably be mostly forest floors and cold rations."

Clint shrugged as they dismounted and began to lead their horses behind the inn, which was called the Drowned Goose. "Eh, I'm used to it. Natasha and I have had to camp out plenty of times on missions."

The three of them stabled their horses out back and headed around to the front. Will pestered Clint with questions about his missions the entire time, but Clint didn't mind. He'd grown to be quite fond of the kid over the few days that he'd been traveling with them. He liked Halt, too, but that was more of an intense respect thing than fondness. From what they'd been telling me of their exploits, Halt seemed to be an amazing warrior and tactician.

As they entered the ground floor of the inn, they were blasted with a wall of heat and the smell of stale beer, sweat, and roasted meats. The low ceiling was crisscrossed with wooden beams and tables were set up throughout the room with chairs ringing the crackling fire in the back of the room.

There were several patrons seated around the room and conversation lulled as they entered and everyone turned to examine the newcomers.

"Halt?" A voice exclaimed into the silence.

Halt raised his hand in greeting to the man who was making his way across the room towards him. The man looked to be in his late twenties and was wearing a ranger's cloak with a sword sheathed at his side.

"Gilan," he greeted as he embraced the man, a warm smile breaking over his face. "What a surprise!"

"Hey, Gilan!" Will said happily as he stepped forward to claim his own hug. "What're you doing here?"

"I'll tell you all about it once we're away from prying eyes," he murmured back as he ruffled Will's hair and glanced over his shoulder to give the other patrons a meaningful glare. Conversation immediately resumed, but the curious glanced didn't stop. It was rare to see three Rangers in the same place, after all.

"Who's this?" Gilan asked as he turned to Clint and held out a hand.

Clint shook the man's hand and was about to introduce himself when Will beat him to the punch.

"This is Clint," he said as he clapped a hand on Clint's shoulder. "He isn't a Ranger, but he's a _really_ good archer."

"Really?" Gilan asked with an amused smile. "Well, then it's an honor to meet you, Clint. I'm Gilan. I'm a former apprentice of Halt's," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the grizzled Ranger, who'd gone over to the bar to order them some food. "How'd you end up traveling with these two, by the way?"

Clint chuckled and shook his head. "That's… a really long story, actually. To make it shorter, I'm helping them with their mission until I can find a way to get back to my home."

Gilan's brows furrowed and he glanced to Will, who gave him a nod, his face deadly serious. "Well okay then," Gilan said as he looked back to Clint. "It's good to meet you, Clint. Will, you and Halt can tell me about your mission later. For now, let's eat."

Will grinned. "Yes please!"

Clint simply chuckled and followed the two of them to where Halt was already seated in the corner, his cowl pulled forward to hide his faint smile as he watched them from afar.

 **(A/N: Feel free to leave some more reviews and tell me how you like this story and what I should do for the other Avengers. Thank you to those of you who have already reviewed!**

 **ZeAwsumOtaku: YEAH! :D I'm gonna have to brush up on my spn knowledge but I'm PUMPED!**

 **Catsar: Thank you! I'll be honest, it's been a while since I've read Ranger's Apprentice, so it's good to know that I'm doing something right. :)**

 **Quirkygallade: Thanks! As I said with Catsar, it's good to know that I'm portraying them well. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)**

 **Mala: Well, Diana isn't a Ranger horse, but she's something! XD I literally wrote her before you even posted that comment, which I find hilarious, and I also have been planning for them to meet Gilan for a while now, but thank you for the suggestions anyways. :) Unfortunately, I don't plan on including Alyss, Pauline, or Horace, which is a shame because I've realized that this story could use some more badass ladies. :( Finally, UMMM HOLY SHIT I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE THAT? Seriously, I love it when my readers create theories that I hadn't even considered. :)**

 **Thank you all for reading and I hope you are all comforted by the fact that I am not, in fact, dead!**

 **ALSO, please go and check out my good friend, ChickWithThePurpleGuitar! She's an amazing writer and an even more amazing person, so feel free to show her some love. :)**


	5. Another One Bites the Dust

**(A/N: Contrary to what MAJORMATT1234 thought in their review, I am not stopping this series XD I was going to make this chapter much longer, but I thought that after about 8 months of waiting, you guys might like an update. There'll probably be only a couple more chapters before the end of Clint's story.)**

"Holy shit." Gilan's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his sockets as he stared at the three men across the well-worn tavern table. "So you're..." He pointed at Clint, his mouth slightly open in such a shocked expression that Clint almost expected smoke to start coming out of his ears.

"Yes, I'm from the very, very distant future." Clint said with a smirk, keeping his voice low. "Almost 14 centuries from now, to be exact."

When they'd first told Gilan about Clint's unique situation, the man had doubled over the table, laughing so hard that he'd almost made their empty stew bowls go clattering off the table. After he'd finally calmed down, it had taken nearly 20 minutes of convincing before he finally believed them.

Gilan sat back in his chair and huffed out a breath as he scrubbed his hand over his face. "But that just isn't-"

"Possible, I know," Clint finished with a chuckle. "Believe me, I've lived the impossible more times than I can count, although this might make my top ten." Gilan's expression turned even more bug-eyed and it took all of Clint's concentration not to snort.

Halt rolled his eyes as Will laughed and nudged Gilan. "So, what brings you to Redmont?" Will asked. "We're quite a long ways from Norgate Fief."

Gilan face turned somber and his eyes darted to the other patrons in the room, all of whom were pretending not to stare at the three Rangers and the stranger in the corner.

"Let's move this conversation upstairs," he said in a low tone as he stood from the table and headed towards the stairs in the corner that led to the rooms for rent on the upper floor.

The four of them crowded into Gilan's small room, which was now also Clint's. Will and Halt had opted for the room next door and since the rooms were only suited for two people at most, the Rangers had agreed that renting two rooms would be much more financially prudent than renting three.

"I'm tracking a kidnapper," Gilan said as he took a seat on the bed. Will joined him while Clint leaned against the wall and Halt remained standing, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyebrows furrowed. "A knight passed through my fief a few weeks ago. While he was there, he was seen talking with a young woman named Elissa Gray who then went missing the next day. Her husband reported her missing, although I don't think that I'm too eager to get her back to him," Gilan said with a deep, angry scowl. "The guy was at least twice her age and I _really_ didn't like the bruises on his knuckles."

Clint and Halt glanced at each other, their expressions troubled. This story was sounding all too familiar. Will reached over to put his hand on Gilan's forearm. He gave the man a resolute nod and Gilan returned it with a tight smile.

"This knight…" Halt said, regaining Gilan's attention. "Did his coat of arms happen to be a red tree?"

Gilan frowned up at his mentor. "No, it was a crescent moon. Why?"

"Because another knight did the exact same thing in a small village west of here," Halt sighed as he scrubbed a hand over his beard. "I was hoping that we were tracking the same knight, but it seems that we're looking for several. I'm assuming yours passed through here?"

Gilan nodded, his expression grim. "Yes, a few days ago. I managed to find someone that saw him traveling through with a woman that matched Elissa's description, along with two other women. The man said that all of the women looked happy and well taken care of, but the knight himself looked way too shifty for the guy's taste."

Will glanced between the two other Rangers. "Do you think they're heading for the Narrow Sea?"

Clint watched in bemusement as Halt and Gilan nodded at the exact same time.

"It's more than possible," Gilan conceded. "Both of our knights were heading east and now that their paths have converged, it's safe to say that they're heading for the same location." He grinned at Halt. "I feel like it's been forever since we've teamed up."

Halt nodded thoughtfully, his face impassive as he stared off into the distance. "I think the last time you tried to join me on a mission was when I insulted the king. We're long overdue." He focused on Gilan again and Clint had a sneaking suspicion that Halt's slightly raised eyebrow was his equivalent of a hearty chuckle. Gilan and Will stared at the other man for a second before breaking out into full-body laughter. Clint shook his head in amazement as he huffed out a breath. He'd definitely have to ask Halt about that misadventure one of these days.

The four of them left the next morning, each of them on their respective horse as they headed toward the next village over. The road that they were on was too well-traveled for any of the Rangers to be able to track the traveling knights, so they would just have to trust that the men and their female companions would continue their eastward journey. When they finally arrived, several villagers told them that they'd seen the two knights pass through a few days ago with six young women, none of whom looked to be in distress. From the descriptions that they were given, Elissa, Anthea, Leah, and Sarah all seemed to be among them, but Clint and the Rangers still didn't know who the last two women were, let alone what fief they were from or why they were there. Elissa and the three Herring sisters all seemed to all have a reason to leave home and Clint couldn't help but wonder about these other girls' reasons.

The following days passed quickly as they followed the men through the countryside, passing from fief to fief. Each village reported seeing the knights and their charges, but what really worried them was when the numbers started to grow. When they reached the third village, a small collection of buildings called Rocky Ford, the owner of the inn there told them that he'd seen seven women with the two knights.

"Are you sure?" Gilan asked the white-haired man, his brow drawn down in a troubled expression. "In the last village that we visited, witnesses saw only six."

The man shook his head, his face pensive and his lips slightly pursed. "Naw, I'm sure I saw seven. One red-head, three blondes, and three brunettes that could've easily been sisters."

"Thank you for your time." Halt nodded to the man and signaled for Abelard to continue along the road that led out of tiny village.

"The red-head's new," Gilan said as he turned to look at Halt.

Halt merely grunted in reply, keeping his eyes fix firmly on the road ahead of him, his brow furrowed with concern.

"What could they possibly want with all of them?" Will asked, his face scrunching into a less-weathered mirror of Halt's. "Every single person that we've talked to has agreed that the women all looked like they were fine. They're always clean and even smiling." His fingers twitch on the reins.

"And they aren't taking them for," he glances over at Will, "indecent reasons." He grimaced. "The women definitely wouldn't look happy with each other if that were the case."

Gilan shook his head. "Or with the knights, for that matter. They also aren't afraid to take them through populated areas." He frowns. "They aren't afraid of the women escaping."

Will huffs out a breath. "Are we even looking at a kidnapping? These women are obviously better off away from where they were before." He visibly shudders, making Tug toss his head in sympathy. "Elissa's situation alone is enough to make my stomach sick."

Halt's lips draw into a thin line as he glances to his apprentice. "I agree. But we still have an obligation to find these women and ensure that they're with these knights willingly, no matter how their situation appears to be."

The rest of them nod, falling silent.

 **(A/N: Please please PLEASE, if any of you notice any major mistakes or errors, feel free to message me and tell me. :) I really enjoy reading reviews, so I'd greatly appreciate those as well.)**

 **(To Mala: I'm really sorry, but I already had the full story line of this fic planned out when I started writing it. :( I really wish that I'd found some way to include Alyss and Pauline when I first started planning out the plot, but I'm just too far along to add them now. :( )**


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